Intertwined
by Jcaslcgaiwd
Summary: Sherlock and John get into a fight. (Parent!lock and Johnlock)


**A/N: Well I really wanted to write a parent!lock and Johnlock and this was the result. This is my very first try so sorry if it isn't that good. Hopefully I will write more for you lovely people.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock because I'm not Steven Moffat nor Mark Gatiss, obviously.**

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John slammed the door shut, leaving Sherlock there, all alone in the middle of the living room. He sighs heavily and slumps down into his chair. Him and John had been fighting and it hadn't ended well. The detective knew that John would most likely sleep in his old room tonight, leaving Sherlock to sleep all alone in the bed, which he hated.

Small arms wrap around him, comforting him. He turns and sees two bright blue eyes staring at him, but they were sad and scared. It seemed to him that tears were forming in those blue eyes also.

"Hamish, what are you doing up? It's one in the morning." The detective states, gesturing towards the clock.

"I heard you and Dad fighting and I got scared." The young boy admits, his voice small. "Are you going to get a divorce and split up?" Hamish asks, his voice breaking. Sherlock puts his son into his lap and looks into his eyes.

"No, never. I love John and he loves me. Do you know how many times we've fought before?" Hamish shakes his head. "Hundreds!" Sherlock whispers, poking his son's stomach playfully.

"Hundreds? That's a lot!"

"It is, isn't it? I think your father would have left me by now if he didn't truly love me." Sherlock says, smiling at himself mostly. It was the God to honest truth though.

"Daddy?" Hamish shakes his father, pulling Sherlock back to reality. "Do you love me?"

"Of course I do! What kind of question is that?" Sherlock asks, staring at his son.

"Well you've never said it to me before." Hamish says, looking down. The detective begins to protest, until he really searches his mind. Had he really never told him that? Was he really that bad of a father? Sherlock feels his heart sink, feeling as if he's failed his son. "Hamish, I do love you." Sherlock says, making the young boy look into his eyes. "Now why don't you pick a book to read?"

Sherlock takes Hamish out of his lap and the boy runs to the book shelf. He grabs a worn, beaten up book with a green cover. Sherlock observes it, a smile spreading across his face.

"_The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien._" He reads, pulling his son back into his lap. "Why this one?"

"I like it. Dad reminds me of Bilbo also."

"Who do _I _remind you of in the story?" Sherlock asks, Hamish giggling.

"You remind me of the big, bad dragon Smaug." The detective raises an eyebrow, laughing.

"Why's that?"

"You're voice is as deep as I imagine his would be." He answers honestly, smiling. Sherlock opens the book and begins reading.

"In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and oozy smells, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit hole, and that means comfort." Sherlock continues to read the story for a while, Hamish beginning to drifting off after about a half-hour or so. Soon enough he's out like a light.

The father puts his son in his bed, kissing his forehead gently. "I love you, Hamish." He whispers, brushing the boy's bangs from his face. Sherlock exits the room, going into his and John's room now. He puts his pajamas on, slipping under the covers. He lays there, regretting for yelling at John.

Hell, John was right. Sherlock shouldn't be so judgemental, but it everyone was so stupid. Why can' just think! Hamish and John were smart, though everyone had about the same I. Q. as a brick wall. The detective can't sleep, missing his husband. He misses the touch of John's fingers stroking his face, his soft lips touching his, and the older man's body wrapped around his so gentle and loving.

Sherlock lays there for a while (an hour and fifteen minutes to be exact), until the front door opens. He can tell it's John by the semi-light footsteps and heavy sigh. The younger man listens as the doctor paces the flat, then begins to walk down the hall. The bedroom door opens and Sherlock sits up. They look at each other, neither one talk for a minute, just staring and unsure of what to say to the other.

Sherlock gets up ans walks over to the older man, looking into his eyes. John pulls away from the piercing gaze, beginning to walk away. Sherlock puts a hand in his thick shoulder, turning him around.

"John, I'm so sorry." The younger man says, his voice full of regret and sentiment. John doesn't buy it, still slightly angry. He shrugs Sherlock's hand off if his shoulder, going towards his room upstairs. "Hamish asked me today if we were going to get a divorce and I told him no, but now I feel as if I may have lied to him." Sherlock calls, causing John to stop in his tracks.

The ex-soldier turns around slowly, looking at Sherlock, who was fidgeting with his wedding ring.

"He also told me that in never told him that I love him and I... I think he's right." John hears sadness in the younger man's voice. "John, I feel like a horrible father and if we do get a divorce, I think you should get custody of our son." Something change a in the older man's eyes. He turns and runs to the detective. John gets in Sherlock's face, only inches away. His eyes were burning with fury and tears.

"Sherlock Holmes, you better not ever say that again! We are never going to divorce each other, and you are a fanatic father and husband. You're smart, honest, caring, and beatiful. If you ever say those two things again, I swear to God I will kick your ass! Got it?" John says, a smile cracking across his face.

Sherlock nods, hugging the man he loved most. John kisses him softly, taking his hand.

"Come on, let's get in bed. It's been a long night." Sherlock gets on his side of the bed, John crawling in next to him once he's in his pajamas. The two lay there, holding hands and looking into each other's eyes. "Sherlock, I love you."

"I love you too, John." Sherlock whispers, kidding his hand. The two fall asleep, snuggled up against each other, hands still intertwined.

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**Did you like this? Should I write more? If yes, then review and let me know! Also should I write a parent!lock where they have a daughter also? It's up to you to make that happen, dearies. ;)**


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